


Poetic E's jumbled ABC's

by poeticeclipse



Category: The Office (US)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticeclipse/pseuds/poeticeclipse
Summary: Office alphabet drabbles, but out of order because that's how they were written;)





	1. B is for: Beginnings

B is for: Beginnings 

 

They're running a bit behind this morning,  
the sun already breaking through,  
as the van rumbles to a stop outside Jim and Pam's.  
Ryan tumbles out dry heaving on the lawn.  
Jim grimaces, squinting into the sun from the porch.  
"Is he alright?"  
"Yeah, fresh air makes him sick."  
"Thats? Okay, that's weird."  
"Yeah... listen so, I was thinking of asking him to dinner tonight?"  
Jim laughs. "Oh wait, you're serious?"  
"Yes. I mean, maybe we dont always get along still, but he can be fun. Plus since he's joined most of Michael's "attention" has been on him instead of me... He puts up with a lot."  
She says staring into the distance, repressing a shudder.  
"You know we don't really get along."  
"One night. C'mon."  
He sighs. "Fine."


	2. E is for: Enigma

E is for: Enigma

 

No one could say when exactly Ryan became so close to Jim and Pam.   
It just was. An enigma.  
One day he's draping himself on Jim's shoulder complaining about something in the office, and no one seems to find it odd this physical contact, used to Ryan's dramatics and whining they ignore it.   
The next he's over for dinner and lounging on their couch watching movies.   
Over the months he just seems to slide seamlessly into their life like it's nothing. That's not to say that they dont still bicker and fight with each other, because they do. But there's no real heat in it. In fact, they almost seem to enjoy it.


	3. G is for: get off

G is for: Get off

 

It's movie night and they've just finished settling the debate on which movie to watch   
when Ryan flops unceremoniously to the couch, head in Jim's lap.   
"Get off me," Jim monotones. Eyes never leaving the TV.   
"No."   
"Prick." Jim breathes.  
"Dickhead."  
"Boys!" Pam says. Rolling her eyes.   
"He started it." Ryan mumbles.   
The opening credits start and Jim's hand finds it's way Into Ryan's hair, twirling the soft strands between his fingers.   
And no one says anything more.


	4. C is for: Christmas caper

C is for: Christmas caper

 

Even though Ryan used to plot against Jim, and even though one of those plots had referenced Saw, he still doesn't actually like seeing him hurt. Particularly when there's blood. like now, at the annual Christmas party with blood from his nose staining his shirt.  
He leans against Jim's side with his arms around him possessivly, his head against his shoulder. "It's fine, Ry, really."  
He assures, squeezing his shoulder.  
Oscar grins at them "He's really drunk, huh?" He chuckles patting Ryan's shoulder.  
He turns his face into Jims neck.  
"Uh, yeah," Jim supplies "we're probably just gonna give him a ride." He says edging towards the door. Giving a discreet nod to Pam on the way out.  
He's still leaning heavily against Jim's side when they get accosted by kelly down the hall.  
"Oh my God! What happened? Ryan, are you okay?" She gasps.  
"Never better!" He "slures" head hanging back  
"just getting escorted home by this lovely lady." He says pressing a kiss to Jim's neck. Kelly let's out a squeak while staring wide eyed at the display.  
"We're just gonna get him home." Pam smiles tightly, steering her away.  
"Yeah, yeah, you should do that." She trails off.  
Ryan presses closer, mouth hot against Jim's neck.  
"You know you're not really drunk right?" Jim asks dryly.  
"I'm a little drunk."  
"No."  
"Pam, tell Jim I'm drunk."  
"I did see him with a glass earlier." Pam confirms In mock seriousness.  
"Oh my God, you two." Jim complains to the ceiling.  
"He's talking to the ceiling." Ryan stage whispers.  
"Maybe he's the one that's drunk."  
"I am not talking to either one of you anymore." He huffs, exasperated.  
Pam looks to Ryan and they burst out laughing.


	5. S is for: In sickness and in Oh my God, Stop scratching!

S is for: In sickness and in Oh my God, Stop scratching!

 

I can't believe you've never been vaccinated against chicken pox, Dwight says, shocked.  
"They didn't even have a vaccine till I was like fifteen." He argues, scratching.  
"Still, you never thought to-  
"Well, obviously not!" He snaps.  
"Everyone calm down." Jim says. "And stop scratching." He scolds, yanking Ryan's arm down.  
Ryan sighs, pouting.   
"Come on, we'll take you home." Pam says.  
"...After we stop for some calamine." She backtracks, pulling his hand away once more.  
Jim runs into the store while Pam and Ryan sit in the car, the latter squirming around in the backseat trying to scratch his back against the seat cushions.  
"Ryan!" Pam says, exasperated.  
"Well, it itches!" He whines.  
Jim makes his way back to the car, stopping to stare at him through the window for a minute, before yanking the door open and sliding in beside him "here." He says, tugging his dress shirt from his slacks. "Now?" He asks glancing around. "Just your back at least, if it'll keep you from rutting against the seats like an animal. He says, working the buttons free. "I am not! And I resent being called an animal."   
"Just turn around." 

The tension starts to ease from his back as Jim finishes dabbing it on. "Thanks, Jim."   
Jim grips his hair, tugging his head back "Welcome." He murmurs, nipping at his jaw. Smirking at his whine when he pulls away.

Climbing back into the front seat they head for home.

Ryan shucks his pants as soon as he's through the door. "Gimmie it, gimmie it." He says, reaching for the bottle, scratching his thigh. Pam bursts out laughing while Jim just grins. "It's not funny!"   
"No, it's not. I'm sorry." She says, kissing his cheek. Leaning back she says.   
"I'll get you something for this fever; you're burning up." Jim comes over pressing the back of his hand to his cheek.   
"Wanna go get in the bed? I'll help you with the lotion."   
Ryan nods miserably.  
Once he's taken something for the fever and is thoroughly covered in pink dots, he drifts to sleep between them, face smushed into Jim's chest, breathing gently through his mouth. 

He wakes to Ryan fidgeting restlessly beside him. It takes him a minute to realize what he's doing before he throws an arm across him pinning him "Stop. Scratching."   
"Let me go." He huffs, bucking against his arm trying to break his hold. "Stop!"   
He falls still for a minute before he's squirming wildly again, his breath hitching, Jim thinks he's crying for a minute until, "Jim get off! Jim get off!" he says, scrambling over him.   
The sound of retching echoes down the hall. He really hopes he made it to the toilet. Sighing, he throws the covers off and follows him.   
He's leaned against the toilet, face buried in his forearms.   
"You alright?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the tub.   
"I hate being sick."  
"I don't think anyone really enjoys it, Ry." He says sarcastically.  
"You know what I mean!" He sniffs.  
"C'mere." He squeezes his neck, pulling him to him, letting him rest his head against his thigh.  
"I'm sorry you're sick, babe." He says, rubbing his back.   
"You're making me itchy." He complains into Jim's leg.  
"Sorry."  
"S'okay." He sighs.  
"Are you finished being sick you think?"  
He shrugs.  
"Here." He says, picking up the little trashcan from beside the toilet.   
"Let's go get on the couch, watch a movie if you want."  
"K."  
Jim stretches out on the couch. "K, c'mere."  
"You sure? I don't want to barf on you."  
"Dang, I was really looking forward to that."   
"You're so weird." He grumbles tiredly,   
sprawling on top of him.  
"I know, that's what makes me so loveable."  
He says, stroking his hair."   
"Mmm, if you say so."  
"Just try to get some sleep." He kisses his head.   
"You'll feel better tomorrow."  
"Really?"  
"No, probably not."  
"Jerk." He mutters, jabbing a finger in his side.


	6. T is for: Tease

T is for: Tease 

 

Jim had been out of town for a few days now and Pam has thoroughly been enjoying teasing a mopey Ryan.  
"You miss him." She grins.  
"No, I don't."   
"You so do!" She laughs, nudging him with her foot from where they're sprawled on the couch.  
"Not." He says, pushing her foot away, irritated.  
Hearing a car door slam outside they both jump up as Jim walks in.  
"Honeys I'm home...what?" He asks, looking at Pam's grinning face.  
"Ryan missed you."  
"Aw, you did, babe?" He asks, sliding his arms around him, nuzzling his ear.   
"No."  
Jim let's out a breathy chuckle against his neck. "You're cute."


	7. A is for: It was an accident!

A is for: It was an accident!

 

"It was an accident, Ryan!" Jim calls.  
But Ryan ignores him, stomping off to the bathroom.   
Jim tries hard not to snicker, Gatorade dripping off his hair, down his face.  
This has been the most fun "Fun Run." He's had yet.  
It had started with a bet with Ryan over who could finish faster. And had later involved some light hearted pranking. Though maybe filling his running shoes with jello had been too much. But he really didn't mean to run into him at the finish, causing him to fall Into the refreshment table. He had been soaked in Gatorade, his pants, shoes, everything, and he was so, so mad because he thought for sure Jim did it on purpose just to get at him, and so he just started pelting him with paper cups and splashes of Gatorade.   
Ironically while telling him how immature he was before storming away.   
"C'mon, Ryan I didn't push you on purpose."   
He's standing outside the stall door waiting for him to finish changing. The door pops open and Ryan stalks out. "You ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes, Jim. You'll pay for that.  
"Promises, promises." Jim wiggles his eyebrows at him, laughing as the bathroom door slams in his face.


	8. F is for: Five more minutes

F is for: Five more minutes 

 

"Harder."  
"You want to bleed?" Ryan asks, trailing his nails down Jim's back.   
"Mmm, feels good." He murmurs into his pillow.  
Ryan leans forward kissing his shoulder. "Pam's gonna kill you for lazing around on a Saturday instead of tackling her to do list." He prods.  
"Five more minutes."


	9. L is for: Lines

L is for: Lines

Jim traces the line of Ryan's collarbone.  
"Stop." He whines, though it doesn't really irritate him.  
"It's so boney." He breathes, fascinated.  
"No it's not."  
"Yes-huh."  
"It's a bone, Jim. What else is it supposed to be."  
"You know what I mean. It's very defined."  
"You make me sound like a girl." He complains.  
"You'd make a pretty girl." He teases, kissing his nose.  
"Ugh, Jim!" He says, smacking him with a pillow.


	10. D is for: Dark days

D is for: dark days

Every now and then Ryan has a bad day.   
Not a stub your toe, spill your coffee kind of bad day   
but the kind where the melancholy presses in on your lungs   
and zips all joy from you.   
These days are quite days where he doesn't speak but rather cozy ups with whoever's available and rides it out.   
Jim will hold him tight running his fingers through his hair   
and sit quietly with him. Pam will tug him to her guiding his head to her chest, over her heart, stroking his face and reading to him from whatever book she's currently working on.   
Today he lays with Pam on the couch, feet in Jim's lap.  
"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"   
Jim offers, squeezing his foot.  
He shakes his head.  
Jim thinks for a minute. "Want to write in your journal?"  
Another head shake.  
"Okay." He rubs his foot.   
Really, he'd already known the answer but still feels it's important to ask.   
It's not the first dark day they've weathered and it probably won't be the last, but at least they have each other to weather it with now.


	11. M is for: Make us proud

M is for: Make us proud

"Aww!" He coos in a way that's both sincere and intentionally irritating.  
"Pam, look how beautiful our boy is." He gushes, smoothing Ryan's collar.  
"Don't patronize me, Jim." He glares, blushing.  
"Never."  
"You look very handsome, Ryan." Pam smiles.  
"Thanks," He mumbles, staring at his shoes. "do...do you think they'll like me?" He asks nervously, biting his lip, in a rare show of insecurity.  
"They'll love you, angel." Jim says, running his thumb along his lip.  
"What if-  
"Hey." Pam says, squeezing his hand. "None of that. You're prepared," she states firmly. "the pitch is good, it'll be fine."  
He draws in a deep breath. "Right."  
"Hey, call us tonight." Jim calls, as Ryan heads for the door.  
He throws his hand up in half hearted recognition and closes the door.  
"They grow up so fast." Jim jokes.  
"I'm nervous." Pam confesses, rubbing her arms.  
"He'll be fine." Jim says, pulling her to him.

And he was. Better than fine, really.  
Managing to land a relatively large account, and all on his own. And no one could be more proud of him than Jim and Pam.


	12. N is for: Nails

N is for: Nails

Ryan drags his feet, slowly following along behind Pam while she shops.  
He pauses picking up a bottle of nail polish.  
"Hey, how come you never paint your nails?" He asks twirling the bottle in his hand.  
"What?" She replies absently still scanning the shelves.  
"I said." He leans over her dangling the polish in her face. "Why don't you paint your nails?"  
"I dont know Ryan, why don't you?"  
She asks rolling her eyes.  
"What?"   
She grins suddenly "I'll paint mine if I can paint yours."   
He looks at her for a minute with narrowed eyes. "That's ridiculous. If you're painting mine then I get to do yours."  
She laughs "Deal."

 

They sit on the couch facing each other.  
"Here, put your hands on my knees."  
He does, fingers twitching under the cool polish as she brushes it on.  
"You have great nail beds." She says, closely inspecting his hands.  
"...Thanks"  
The first set's dry when she starts on the other.  
They hear a rattle of the front doorknob as Jim comes in tossing his keys. He freezes looking at them.  
"...Oh, that's hot."  
He walks over to sit on the coffee table in front of them.  
"Let me see."  
He grabs Ryan's wrist, pulling it close. He gently turns it this way and that, running his thumb back and forth across the deeply maroon colored nail. "Pretty baby." He says, pressing a lingering kiss against the nail.  
Ryan flushes. "I'm doing Pam's next." He stutters.  
"Oh, really." He smiles. "How about I take my two sweet princesses out to dinner then." He kisses his hand again, then Pam's.  
"I'm not going out like this." Ryan says.  
"Oh, you're going." Jim says, eyeing him intently.

They walk to the restaurant, Jim with his arm around Pam and holding Ryan's hand.  
Ryan keeps the other stuffed his pocket.  
Jim keeps offering him finger foods all night just to watch those delicate fingers move to his mouth.  
Ryan pretends not to notice.


	13. R is for: Restless

R is for: Restless

"Jim..." Ryan moans in his sleep.  
"I'm here, babe." He mumbles tiredly, reaching out to touch his leg.  
"Jim..."  
"I'm right here, sweetheart." He says, giving his knee a little shake.  
He groans, back arching off the bed and turning away.  
He'd been tossing and turning all night.  
An incredibly restless sleeper when stressed.  
Jim sits up flicking the bedside lamp on. Peering at his face, noting the twitches and grimaces, he frowns "My sweet baby." He brushes his hair back, rubbing his forehead.  
Ryan's eyes squint halfway open "Jim?" He whimpers.   
"Shh, close your eyes."  
He leans back against the headboard, tugging him against his chest, arms locked around him. Pressing his nose to his hair he breathes deeply. "Go to sleep, baby. I got you."  
At least one of them will have a restful night.


	14. H is for: Headbutt

H is for: Headbutt

Jim has his face against Ryan's, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring deeply into his eyes, when Ryan suddenly has the urge to sneeze.  
His face jerks forward slamming into Jim's.   
"Dang it, Ryan!" Jim shouts, holding his nose.  
"Sorry! ...is it bleeding?" He cringes.  
"What happened?" Pam asks, coming into the room.  
"I hit Jim!" He says, wide eyed.  
"Why?" She asks, rushing over to look at Jim's nose.   
"It was an accident." Jim nasally assures.   
"Is it bleeding!?" He has a thing about blood.  
"Not much, just a little." Pam says, calmly.  
"Oh, God."   
"It's fine, Ryan, it didn't hurt that bad."  
"No. You're bleeding."   
"It wasn't your fault." He sighs, pinching his nose.  
"Were you guys having another "ultimate" staring contest again." Pam huffs, irritated.  
"...maybe?" Jim replies, sheepishly.  
"Oh my- you deserve what you get then." She says, stalking out of the room.  
Jim winces rubbing his nose.  
"Sorry, Jim." Ryan says, wrapping his arms around his neck.   
"...and also I won."


	15. I is for: Insults

I is for: Insults

"Hey, Ryan. Did you get that report finished?"  
"No." He responds, eyes never leaving his computer screen. "I've been swamped."  
"You're playing solitaire." Jim, grits. Trying not to lose his patience.  
"Yeah, but it's best out of seven, so...pretty busy right now."  
Jim pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to ten.  
"Ryan, I really need those reports."  
"Okay, well I'm not stopping you." He looks at him as if he's slow.  
"Oh my God! You're being such a as-  
"Language! This is a work place, Jim!"  
"Dick. Better?" He snarks, glaring.  
"You could do better."  
"Just. Finnish. The. Report."  
"After. The. Next. Four. Games." He enunciates right back.  
Fed up, Jim reaches around him and closes out the game.  
"Hey!"  
"Oh, look you lost." He moans. "Get back to work." He says, dropping the humor and staring sternly.  
"Now who's the dick." He mutters.  
"Still you."  
"Well, you're a jerk for closing my game."  
"Well, you're a bum for not doing your freaking job!"  
He stares at him with narrowed eyes for a minute. "Cretin."  
"Dillweed."  
"Prick."  
"Dim-wit." He moves to the door, turning.  
"Hey, you still coming for dinner tonight?"  
Ryan holds a thumb up. Eyes back on the computer screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated. Be sure to check out my other works.


	16. Z is for: Zoo

Z is for: Zoo

The thing about Ryan that not many people know is he loves animals and after moving in with Jim and Pam has managed to add a cat, a fish, and two hamsters before Pam put her foot down. "We're not running a zoo Ryan. That's it. I made an exception for the cat but no more."  
"You love Mr. Muffins!" He says, looking affronted.  
"No more."  
And that was that until...

Early one morning Jim comes in looking sheepish.  
"Don't get mad." He says, pushing against the door like hes trying to keep something out.  
"Jim."  
She goes over to look out the window.  
"A dog, Jim! Are you serious!"  
"I know, I know, but it's not any dog it's his dog."  
"The one his mom dumped at the pound when he went to New York?"  
"Yes, and the same one he's had since he was fifteen."  
"How did you manage to find him?"  
"It wasnt easy. Where's Ryan?"  
"Still sleeping." She sighs. "I'll go get him"  
Jim leans In kissing her deeply. "You won't regret it."  
"Uh huh." She says, unimpressed.  
Ryan trudges from the bedroom, hair sticking up and wiping sleep from his eyes. "What?" He whines, crossing his arms and slouching.  
"Hey, no pouting, I have a surprise for you." Jim says, smoothing his hair.  
"What?" He asks again, slightly more Interested.  
"Look outside."  
He goes to the window and freezes.  
He stares for a long minute. "Is this for real?"  
"It's for real, baby." Jim says, squeezing his shoulder.  
His face crumples, throwing himself into Jim's chest.  
"I never thought I'd see him again." He cries.  
"Oh, honey." He kisses his head holding him.  
He pulls away after a minute wiping his eyes.  
"Thanks Jim, thanks pam." He grabs her in a fierce hug.  
"You're welcome sweetheart." She says, kissing his lips. "Now go see him."  
He doesn't need to be told twice bounding off the steps and hollering "Cujo, here boy!"  
"Oh, he names the dog Cujo and the cat muffins, that makes sense."  
Jim laughs.

Later in the evening Pam steps out onto the porch to find Jim leaning on the railing watching Ryan and Cujo play.  
"Someone's happy." Pam comments, coming to stand beside him.  
"I like seeing him happy." He remarks, softly.  
Pam grins placing an elbow in his ribs. "You got it bad Halpert." She laughs.  
"Shut up." He smiles at her. "You're the one running this zoo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments always appreciated:)


	17. Q is for: Quite afternoons

Q is for: Quite afternoons

 

It's a quiet afternoon. Pam sits on the porch working on her latest art project, painting a mural on an antique dresser she thrifted.   
Ryan sits cross legged with his chin in his hand watching.   
"Needs more blue." He mumbles, pretending not to notice the way her jaw clenches.  
"Thank you." She says, ignoring the suggestion.  
Cujo bounds onto the porch flopping down near Ryan and resting his head on his knee.  
"Why don't you take him for a walk."  
"He's tired." He says, scratching behind the dog's ear and flopping back himself.   
He stretches, craning his head back to look at the dresser upside down. "Needs more green."   
"Don't you have anything better to do?"  
"No. I'm bored."   
"Well, go find something other than irritating me to do."  
"I'm helping! ...Are you sure you want that much yellow?"  
She takes a deep breath and blocks him out.  
"Pay attention to me!" He whines.  
"You're being very annoying right now."  
"I've always been very annoying." He counters.  
"What do you want, Ryan. Huh?" She sighs.  
"I want to help."  
"Help or critique?"  
"Both." He answers immediately.   
"No."  
"C'mon, Pam."  
"You can help but stop with the 'advice'."  
"Fine!" He scoots closer. "What do I do?"  
She hands him a brush. Holding his hand she guides it in the swirling pattern she's been using to make her florals.   
"That's it." She encourages.   
They work together in silence for a few hours.  
"Looks good." She declares. Leaning back against Ryan.  
"It's not bad." He agrees. Resting his chin on her head.  
She elbows him.   
"Ow! I said not bad."


	18. U is for: United front

U is for: United front 

"Hey." Ryan greets, sitting next to Pam with his lunch.  
"Hey."   
"Where's your glasses?" He asks.  
"Didn't feel like wearing them." She shrugs.  
"Cuz, people were making fun of you?"  
"No."  
"Good, because between you and me the people 'round here have crap opinions on most things, especially fashion related."   
He shivers.  
Pam cracks a smile. "Thanks, Ryan." She says, bumping his shoulder.  
The next day he comes to work with glasses he doesn't need. People think he's trying to be hipster or something, but Pam knows.


	19. O is for: open the dang door!

O is for: Open the dang door!

Pam is sitting on the couch when she hears a sharp gasp and metal clanging to the floor in the kitchen.  
"What happened?" She asks jumping up.  
Ryan races by holding his hand, slamming the bathroom door.  
"Ryan!?" She follows. "Open the door!"  
"What's going on?" Jim asks coming in through the front.  
"Ryan cut himself and he's freaked out. He locked himself in the bathroom."  
"Ryan, open the door, baby." Jim calls jiggling the knob.  
There's nothing but the sound of his stuttered breathing.  
"Ryan! Open the dang door!" He shouts.  
"Jim." Pam says, worried.  
He sighs, looking at the door.  
Luckily whoever installed the knob put it in backwards with the screws on the outside.  
"You grab me a screwdriver?"  
"Yeah." She hurries to the kitchen.  
"Ryan." Jim tries again softer. "I need to know you're okay in there."  
He doesn't expect a verbal response, knowing he's in the throes of a panic attack, so he accepts the timid three beat knock against the tub with relief.  
"Here." Pam hands him a screwdriver.  
It doesn't take but a minute to twist the screws loose.  
He pops the door open with his shoulder.  
Ryan's curled against the tub squeezing a washcloth that's stained red.  
Jim sits half a foot from him.  
"Ry? Hey. look at me." He waits till he has his attention. "I'm gonna touch you, is that okay?"  
He gives a jerky nod, breathing heavily.  
Jim reaches out squeezing his shoulder.  
"It's alright, everything's okay." He says softly.  
"Let me see your hand, baby." He reaches out but Ryan is quick to snatch it away holding it closer to his chest and making a choked whine sound in the back of his throat.  
"Honey I can't help you if you don't let me see."  
He hesitates before timidly holding his hand out.  
Jim carefully pulls back the cloth.  
He's been home a good ten minutes but blood is still pouring freely from the gash across his palm.  
He wraps the cloth back around his hand tying it tight.  
"I think we need to head to the emergency room."  
"Noo!"  
"Is it bad?" Pam asks, biting her nail.  
"It definitely could use some stitches."He says hoisting Ryan up.  
"No, Jim please." He begs.  
"Look, I know you don't want to but once they get it all cleaned and bandaged up you won't have to look at any more blood, okay?"  
"Okay." He says shakily.  
Once there Pam and Jim both go back with him.  
He sits nervously, twitching and fidgeting.  
Jim puts a hand on his thigh. "It's gonna be fine Ry." He soothes.  
The nurse comes in to sanitize and numb his hand before the stitches.  
He tenses at the sting, sucking in a quick breath.  
Jim gives his thigh a squeeze.  
He turns his face into Pam's shoulder when the doctor comes in , reaching for her hand as he pokes the needle through for the first stitch.  
By the time it's over he's sweating and trembling, looking completely spent.  
Pam kisses his cheek. "I'm so sorry baby." She rubs his knee. "C'mon, let's get you home."  
He slides from the bed, dragging his feet.  
Jim takes pity on him halfway across the parking lot, lifting him up and carrying him the rest of the way to the car.  
He helps him buckle his seatbelt, leaning forward to place a kiss on his head.  
"You did good I'm proud of you."  
He climbs behind the wheel sighing. All the worry has  
everyone feeling exhausted. He's just ready to get his two  
favorite people home and cuddle them in the bed.  
Which is just what he does.


End file.
